


In The Cards

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safehouses, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: "So, what do you want to play?" Phil asked, leaning back in his chair and expertly fan-shuffling the deck. His face was perfectly straight, but there was a gleam in his eye that Clint recognized."Strip poker," Clint said.





	In The Cards

**Author's Note:**

> _For the 'Safehouse Sex' square on my Clint/Coulson Trope Bingo card._

"The situation in Moldova blew up, so we've got the choice of staying here for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours until there's a jet available to pick us up, or flying back to New York commercial," Phil said, putting his hand over his phone and looking over at Clint.

"Economy or Business Class?" Clint asked.

"Business, but we'll have to dump our weapons and stand in line at the airport, like normal people. You can check your bow in its case, but only with the regular arrows. You'd have to leave the explosive ones behind."

Clint made a face. "I'm happy to chill here for a couple of days."

Phil nodded and spoke into his phone. "We'll stay here until transport's available."

'Here' was a safehouse… though 'house' was being generous. It was more of a cabin. Maybe a shack. No, Clint was pretty sure shacks technically only had one room, which made this a cabin, because it had two: a bedroom with a double-bed and a kitchen/living room with a pull-out sofa, a wood stove, an old-fashioned hand pump over the sink for water, a couple of crates full of supplies, and an honest-to-goodness pit privy out back. Maybe it did count as a shack after all. The mission they'd been on was a total bust. The AIM compound they were supposed to check out was already abandoned when they got there. Not only abandoned but blown up. The tell-tale green powder covering every surface for a quarter-mile around and the signs of rapid evacuation made for an easy-to-jump-to conclusion. One of AIM's mad scientists had had a particularly bad day. But at least they could scratch one more problem off SHIELD's never-ending list of headaches.

One thing the place didn't seem to have was electricity. There were a couple of battery packs, but those were for charging their phones in an emergency only. Instead there were gas lamps that ran off a big propane tank on the outside of the building. Along with the heat from the fire, it made the place nice and cozy. Once they'd eaten (Clint had whipped up a dinner of beans, weenies & biscuits from the supplies on hand), Phil cleared the table then dug out the ubiquitous deck of cards. Amenities in SHIELD safehouses ran the gamut from full entertainment centers and home gym set-ups, to a half-shelf of ragged paperbacks and a deck of cards. But there were always cards, and usually a cribbage board and an ammo box full of poker chips to go with them. 

"So, what do you want to play?" Phil asked, leaning back in his chair and expertly fan-shuffling the deck. His face was perfectly straight, but there was a gleam in his eye that Clint recognized.

"Strip poker," Clint said. It was an old joke between them. The first time they'd been stuck in a safehouse without a TV, Phil had pulled out the deck of cards and asked Clint if he wanted to play, and if so, what game. Clint, who hadn't been with SHIELD long and was still playing up his cocky smart-ass reputation at every opportunity, had said 'Strip poker,' with a grin and a leer, trying to get a rise out of the reportedly unflappable Agent Coulson. Phil had taught him how to play Gin Rummy instead, and Clint eventually got good enough to beat him. In the next couple of years, Phil expanded their repertoire to Cribbage, and had even taught Clint a two-player variant of Bridge.

But Clint still said, "Strip Poker," every time Phil got out the deck of cards. And Phil still asked. It had become more than a private joke between the two of them; now it was also a nod to the hour and days and weeks they'd spent working together, an acknowledgement of their shared history.

"Okay," Phil said. "Five-card draw. Jokers are wild. One bet per hand, no raising. Shoes and socks come off in pairs as one item and jewelry doesn't count. Cut for dealer." Phil slammed the deck down in the middle of the table and looked at Clint with challenge in his eyes. 

"Wait, what?" Clint's brain did a double take, but Phil didn't laugh and tell him it was a joke, he just sat there, waiting for Clint to cut the deck. So even though his mind was reeling Clint pasted a cocky grin on his face, plunked himself down in the straight-backed wooden chair opposite Phil, and cut a seven of spades.

Phil cut a Jack of diamonds and pulled the deck back towards himself, giving it another smooth shuffle before quickly dealing five cards to each of them.

"Neither of us wear any jewelry," Clint said, his brain still trying to catch up with Phil's instructions.

Phil hadn't touched his cards yet. "I once had a guy try to convince me that his Prince Albert piercing counted as an item of clothing," he said, already wearing a perfectly bland poker face. 

Clint tried not to choke on his own tongue. "What," he said, clearing his throat and licking his lips. "What about your watch?" They were both wearing boots and socks, fatigue pants, and t-shirts. Clint still had his tac vest on over his, and Phil was wearing a flannel shirt. 

Phil raised an eyebrow, then turned his wrist over and unbuckled his watch strap. Clint's eyes were glued to Phil's fingers taking the leather band off his wrist. There was no fucking way Phil taking his watch off should be that sexy. Clint was going to have to get his head in the game, and fast.

"There," Phil said, putting his watch on the corner of the table. "Satisfied, we're starting even?"

"Yeah, uh… yeah."

"Good." Phil nodded and picked up his cards. Clint watched his face as he examined them, trying to pick up a tell, a clue, anything. There was a ghost of a hint of a smile. Maybe. Clint picked up his own cards, and tried hard not to telegraph his glee at finding that he had a pair of eights.

Phil's eyes met his. "How many?"

Should he keep the high king or toss it for a better chance of a third eight? "Two," Clint said, licking his lips again and tossing his discards onto the table.

"Dealer takes three."

Clint waited until Phil had picked up his cards before looking at his own. A three, and a queen. No good.

Phil spread his cards on the table between them. "Pair of tens, ace high. What have you got?"

Clint laid down his hand face up, shrugged philosophically, and stripped off his tac vest with a grin, tossing onto the sofa. He accepted the deck from Phil and shuffled. He still had no idea what was going on, but he was starting to think that this was going to be fun. Clint lost the next hand, and took off his boots, and the one after that. At which point he stripped off his t-shirt with a smirk, flexing far more than necessary. Clint figured if he could get Phil annoyed, or distracted, or, well, anything, really, it would improve his chances of winning. His tactic seemed to work, because he won the next hand and Phil pulled off the flannel shirt he was wearing. And then threw another log into the wood stove. Clint grinned at him. And lost the next two hands, and his socks and pants. 

When the next hand dealt him a pair of kings he was relieved, and tried not to let it show. Clint's draw gave him a pair of threes to go with them. Phil had a lousy pair of fives, and bent down to take off his shoes. Clint very carefully didn't squirm in his seat. What happened after he lost another hand, he wondered? Once he was naked, then what? Phil got to laugh at him for losing, Clint supposed… except that Phil never laughed at him. 

But Clint figured his luck had turned because he got two pair next deal, and Phil, who had been going for a straight, was left holding a high jack and nothing else. Phil looked at Clint for a long moment, then pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed into onto the sofa with the rest of their clothes. 

Clint swallowed. It wasn't like he hadn't seen Phil with his shirt off before, they changed next to each other in the SHIELD locker rooms all the time. But Clint didn't look then. You weren't supposed to. He stole glances, of course, so he knew Phil was pretty built, that he had a lot of compact muscle under his dark suits and white shirts. Clint was even more confused now. Phil could have taken off his socks, but instead he'd chosen his shirt. Some sense of fair play? Maybe his feet got cold easily? Clint had the all-too-familiar sensation of being in over his head. He could see that something was going on behind Phil's calm blue eyes, but Clint had no idea what it was.

It was Phil's turn to deal and he spent a long time over it, seeming to want to be absolutely sure that the cards were well-shuffled. He dealt quick and sure, a pile of five cards stacking neatly in front of Clint on the table. Clint stared at Phil for a moment, then picked up his cards. Nothing. Not even a small pair. His highest card was a queen, and next highest was a nine. He also had a six, a four, and a two. It was stupid, and reckless, but Clint tossed the queen and the nine. If by some miracle he came up with a straight, then he'd win, he hoped. Keeping the high cards didn't make any more sense, he was pretty sure. 

Phil also drew two, and Clint was watching his face when he picked them up. There was a twitch in his jaw, then the tips of Phil's ears went a little bit pink. Clint was pretty sure he was in trouble. He looked at his cards: a second four, an eight, and a Jack. Clint tossed his cards face up onto the table.

"Pair of fours, Jack high." 

Phil turned his cards over slowly. "Full house. Kings and sevens."

Clint shrugged and stood up from the table, then skimmed out of his tactical boxer-briefs and tossed them onto the pile on the sofa. Then he put his hands on his hips and looked at Phil. Phil looked back at him, his eyes sweeping slowly down Clint's form from head to toe and then back up again. Clint fought to keep a cocky smirk on his face, but he felt it slipping as Phil's eyes met his. Because what he saw now in Phil's eyes was uncertainty. Concern. Shame.

Phil stood abruptly, his chair scraping back loudly against the wood floor of the cabin. "I'm sorry, Clint. I'm sorry. In my head this was fun and sexy, not awkward and embarrassing. Please put your clothes back on." And then Phil turned away, his shoulders hunched in a way that struck Clint like a blow. 

"Hey," Clint said, moving forward and grabbing Phil by the arm to turn him back. "Phil," Clint asked slowly, choosing his words carefully, "after all this time, why did you say 'yes' to my dumb suggestion?"

Phil swallowed. "I… We're always on mission, and this time, for once we weren't, and so when you said… I wanted to see what would happen."

"Phil," Clint said, stepping a little closer and sliding his hand up Phil's bare arm to rest warmly on his shoulder, "do you want something to happen?"

"I… if you… Do you?" Phil was never at a loss for words, but he seemed flustered. Clint stepped even closer, leaving only an inch of air between their bodies. 

"Do you know why I kept suggesting we play strip poker, after all this time?"

"No, why?"

"Because I could never think of any other way to let you know I was interested in you. So I just kinda hoped that one day…" Clint shrugged and trailed off.

"Seems like that day is today." Phil smiled a little, now, and seemed less nervous and unsure. 

"So, uh, I was thinking I'd like to kiss you." Standing naked in front of Phil was hot and awkward and sexy and embarrassing and Clint really needed to do something about it.

"Oh, you were." A small smile curled Phil's lips.

"Yeah. This is if…" Clint grinned. "If you think today's a good day for that."

Rather than answering, Phil wrapped his arms around Clint's waist, put his hands on Clint's ass, and pulled him in tight. The sound Clint made was muffled by Phil's mouth, latching onto his and kissing hard. It only took Clint a moment to start kissing back, and to wrap his own arms around Phil's back, enjoying the feel of the warm smooth skin and compact muscle under it. In contrast, the fabric of Phil's pants was rough against the sensitive skin of his cock, which, far from being uncomfortable, was surprisingly arousing.

Not that Clint was very surprised to be aroused by being in Phil's arms, with Phil kneading his ass and and kissing him stupid. But being naked while Phil was still partly dressed… Clint wondered if maybe he was starting to understand the point behind strip poker after all.

One of Phil's hands left Clint's ass and slid firmly up his spine to cup the back of his neck, and fuck, that had no right to feel as good as it did. Clint moaned into the kiss and his hips bucked forward of their own accord. Phil's mouth pulled away.

"What do you want?" All Phil's earlier hesitancy was gone, and he sounded like his usual, authoritative self as he growled the question into Clint's ear.

"Anything. Everything," Clint gasped. His cock was rock hard against Phil's thigh, and every fantasy he'd ever had about his handler was cascading through his brain like a waterfall. "What," Clint pulled himself together just enough so that he could lean back just enough to see Phil's face (though Phil's exceptionally firm grip on his ass wouldn't let him go very far). "What do you like?"

"I like you. I want to make you feel good, Clint. I want to give you something you want," Phil whispered smooth as silk into Clint's ear and Clint wondered for a moment if he was dreaming, and about to wake up in his own bed with his hand on himself. 

"I want… I…" Clint thought desperately, trying to come up with something, anything that wasn't 'fuck me hard' because although he wanted that (he really, really wanted that), he also wanted more than that, but didn't know how to say it. "I want to touch you," he finally blurted out. "I want you to be naked and just let me… touch you. Everywhere." Clint knew that it had come out wrong, that he sounded stupid and…

"That sounds amazing," Phil said, and kissed Clint hard before releasing him and stepping back. "Bedroom?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a ghost of a grin.

"Uh, yeah, bedroom. Are we, uh, secure here? I mean is there anything we should…" Clint trailed off, entirely at a loss as he watched Phil unfasten his belt and strip off his pants. 

"The op is over and the safehouse is as secure as SHIELD can make it, so I think we're good. I'm going to bring a pistol to bed with me, though, I hope you don't mind." 

"No, uh, of course not. I'll just grab a couple of my throwing knives." Clint covered his own awkwardness by rummaging in his duffle and taking out a pair of slim matched blades. When he turned back around, Phil was naked, having piled the rest of his clothes on the sofa, with his sidearm in his hand. Clint didn't think it was possible to be more turned on than he already was, but the sight hit him like a gut punch. Apparently he wasn't the only one, though, because Phil's gaze was traveling hungrily up and down his body, and Phil's cock was twitching between his thighs as it grew and hardened. Clint couldn't help but stare at it. His mouth went dry.

When Clint finally looked up, Phil's ears were pink. He gave a little 'follow me' jerk of his head and headed into the bedroom. After a moment of stunned paralysis that this was actually happening, Clint followed, which gave him a great view of Phil's tight, muscular ass. Phil put his gun on the one bedside table, taking care to be sure that the muzzle was pointed at the wall. Then he turned to Clint, "It just occurred to me that this being a safehouse, the condoms aren't where I'd usually keep them. I'll just go get them out of the first aid kit. That is if you, ah…" Phil's earlier hesitancy returned. "If that's something you might want to do."

"Condoms. Yeah. Good. I mean I'm clean, and I'm guessing you are too, but still, condoms are a good idea." Clint realized that he was babbling and shut up.

"Back in a sec."

Clint spent the time Phil was away stashing his throwing knives. He slid one into the gap between the baseboard and the wall at the head of the bed, and the other between the mattress and the bed frame. He was careful to make sure that one wouldn't get dislodged and fall out in the event that the bed… moved. 

Phil came back in and Clint stood up and nudged the mattress back into place. Phil dropped a foil strip and a couple of those little single-use lube packets onto the bedside table next to his gun and Clint couldn't help but stare at them.

"Clint," Phil said in a soft, quiet tone that made him look up. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We don't have to do anything at all. I know I kind of blindsided you with the whole strip poker thing, so if‑" This time it was Clint's turn to grab Phil and reel him in and kiss him.

"I am totally, one-hundred percent on board with just about anything that could happen tonight. Trust me," he said.

Either his words or his manner seemed to satisfy Phil, because he grinned. "Okay, then. I seem to remember that you wanted to touch me." Phil climbed onto the bed, flipped over onto his back, and spread out his arms. "I'm all yours," he said with a smile that almost, but didn't quite cover the slight nervousness that Clint could see plainly because a) he was Hawkeye after all, and b) he knew Phil Coulson better than anyone. And Clint had a pretty good idea of where Phil's nervousness came from. Phil didn't have a shy bone in his body, but it was obvious (to Clint) that he was a little worried that somehow he wouldn't 'measure up.' Clint was more than ready to reassure him on that front.

With a wide grin, Clint climbed onto the bed and threw one knee across Phil's hips, straddling them so that they were groin-to-groin, hard cocks bumping and rubbing deliciously.

"This okay?" Clint asked, just to be sure.

"More than." Phil's smile had relaxed into something more natural. Clint leaned forward, supporting himself on his hands and kissed Phil again, this time slowly and luxuriously, taking the time to explore and enjoy. Phil kissed back with a warm enthusiasm that both lit a fire in the pit of Clint's stomach and reassured him. This was going to work. They both wanted it, and it was good. 

Eventually Clint broke the kiss but didn't go far. He moved his lips to the line of Phil's jaw, exploring the slight stubble of late evening as he kissed his way with light presses of his lips to Phil's ear. Clint sucked Phil's earlobe into his mouth and nipped lightly, just to see what kind of reaction he got. Phil's response was a low rumbling hum that Clint could feel as much as hear. Was it possible his buttoned-up handler had a bit of a wild side? Clint stored that particular idea away for later consideration and continued his exploration, kissing down Phil's neck to his collarbone, and across to the middle of his chest. The dark, wiry hair, just starting to grey, tickled at Clint's nose as he moved over to one of Phil's nipples and gave an experimental lick.

"Not much of an erogenous zone for me, I'm afraid," Phil said, raising his head off the pillow to look Clint in the eye.

"That's too bad, you have a great chest."

"I did always feel a little cheated," Phil said.

"Want to clue me in to what works better for you?" Clint asked.

"Thought I'd let you figure that out for yourself, unless you're getting bored already…" Phil said, and that hesitancy was back.

"No way! I'm just getting started here. I wanna find out what drives you crazy." Clint was already punctuating his words with kisses as he worked his way down Phil's breastbone towards his stomach. Phil's hard cock was now pressing against Clint's chest, and Clint could feel the tension in Phil, as he held himself still, not giving in to the temptation to thrust against warm skin. Clint was doing the same, with his own cock snuggled against Phil's inner thigh. Clint wanted this to last. He wasn't sure if it was a one-time thing; though knowing Phil Coulson as well as he did, Clint didn't think it was terribly likely. What was likely, however, was Phil coming over all remorseful over abusing his authority or some such bullshit, so Clint wanted to make the most of this opportunity, all the while hoping it wouldn't be his last.

Clint got quakes and tremors and one actual giggle as he kissed and licked and gently nipped his way across Phil's taut, flat stomach. "Are you ticklish, Sir?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in a parody of innocence.

"Don't call me 'Sir' in bed unless you mean it; and yes, obviously, I am a little bit ticklish in the stomach area. I trust you not to take advantage of that."

Clint's libido was doing backflips. They were going to have to have a long talk about the 'unless you mean it' at some later date, still assuming of course that this wasn't just a one-time thing. Clint dragged his mind away from that thought yet again, and focussed on dropping a line of little sucking kisses along Phil's right hip bone. Phil's hard cock was tantalizingly close, twitching against Clint's cheek. It took a not insignificant amount of willpower, because Clint had wanted to suck Phil's cock for a very long time, but he ignored it and instead nosed down to the crease of Phil's groin. That got a noise that wasn't quite a moan, but was more than just a hum of approval. Phil moved, spreading his legs in encouragement and bending his knee to give Clint better access. Phil's breathing got louder as Clint nibbled along the inside of his thigh, halfway down to his knee and then back up again, now using his tongue as well as his lips and teeth. Phil's breathing hitched loudly as Clint got closer and closer to his balls. 

Clint brushed against Phil's balls with his nose and that drew a long, low moan. "Yeah, Clint." Phil's thighs twitched and he shifted slightly. "Please," he said breathily. Clint was pretty sure he knew what Phil was asking for, so he planted a light kiss on Phil's sac, then followed it up with a long wet lick. "Oh, fuck yeah," Phil moaned, fisting his hands in the sheets. 

Clint went to town, licking and kissing every inch of Phil's scrotum to increasingly desperate-sounding moans. Hearing those noises coming out of Phil was driving Clint wild. He planted one last sucking kiss right at the base of Phil's cock, then crawled back up Phil's flushed, sweating body. 

"So I guess I found the right spot, huh?" Clint said, smiling down at Phil. 

"Mmm-hmm," Phil agreed, visibly trying to get his breathing under control. 

"How would you feel about me riding you?" Clint asked. There were any number of things he'd love to do with Phil, but right now the idea of being able to see Phil's face, and also touch him (and maybe even tease him a little) while taking his cock sounded awesome. 

"That," Phil's voice was rough and he cleared his throat. "I'd like that very much."

"Cool. Just give me a minute to get ready." Clint reached for the condoms and tore one off the strip. "Do you want to do this?" he asked, offering it to Phil.

"Go for it, if you don't mind." Phil's eyes were bright and Clint wondered why. There were so many new things to learn about Phil, now. What he liked, what he didn't, what turned him on, what noises he made when he came. Thinking about all that ratcheted Clint's arousal up even further. He carefully opened the condom package and shuffled backwards until he could reach Phil's cock. Clint thought about sucking it a little first, but now that he knew what was coming next, he was starting to get impatient. So instead he just reached down and stroked Phil's balls teasingly for a minute before rolling the condom on.

He used the contents of one of the packets of lube to coat Phil's cock, then squeezed the other onto his own fingers. He reached behind himself with one hand, and put the other back on Phil's sensitive sac. While he fingered himself open, he stroked and scratched lightly with blunt fingernails, drawing hitches of breath and low moans from Phil.

"You like that, huh?" Clint said when the silence threatened to become awkward. "Tell me something else you like."

"I like looking at you," Phil said with heavy lidded eyes. "I want to watch you come on my cock." 

Hearing Phil say those words lit a new fire in Clint's belly and he bit back a moan of his own as he worked his ass open. "I'm gonna shoot all over your chest. You like that?"

"It's not a thing for me, but don't mind," Phil said his eyes flicking between where Clint's arm disappeared behind his back, and his red, leaking cock.

"I like the idea of getting you all messy." Clint thought Phil looked great in his tailored suits, but the more disheveled he got, the sexier Clint found him.

"Why am I not surprised?" Phil tried an eye roll, but Clint chose that moment to cup his fingers around Phil's balls and squeeze lightly. "Oh, fuck," Phil breathed out his thighs tensing and his cock smacking against the small of Clint's back. Clint decided that he couldn't wait another second to get Phil inside him. He'd go slow. It would be fine.

"I'm ready, how about you?"

"Yeah," Phil said, catching his breath. "Just a sec, though, let me shift up a bit so I can touch you. Phil squirmed under Clint, stuffing the bed's two threadbare pillows behind his back to partly prop himself up against the headboard. "There," he said, putting his hands on Clint's thighs. "How's that?"

"Great. That's great." Clint pulled his fingers out of his ass and used his slick hand to position Phil's cock at his entrance. Kneeling astride Phil's hips, thick thigh muscles taut, he lowered himself carefully. It had been a while since he'd done this, and Phil's cock nudging at his hole felt huge. He tried to force his muscles to relax around the intrusion.

"What can I do?" Phil asked, his fingers stroking lightly up and down the insides of Clint's thighs.

"Uh, touch my cock a little?" Clint tried not to feel embarrassed about asking. Sex for him usually involved a lot less talking, but he knew that wouldn't fly with Phil. Besides, hearing Phil's voice breathy from arousal, so different from his calm, measured tones over the comms, was a turn-on all by itself.

"Like this?" Phil wrapped his fingers loosely around Clint's jutting cock and gave it a light, slow stroke. Having Phil's hand on him was better than Clint could have imagined. He knew Phil's hands; had seen them doing everything from picking a lock, to firing a gun, to bandaging a wound. He had covertly watched Phil's fingers wrapped around a pen or a fork or the steering wheel of a car so many times, and now Clint finally got to see them wrapped around his own cock.

"Yeah, yeah, that's so good Phil," he said. Clint sighed and relaxed into his arousal and sank down on Phil's cock, moaning as the thick head slipping in and his ass clenched around the smaller girth of the shaft. 

"Fuck," Phil moaned under him, but of course the rhythm of his light slow strokes on Clint's cock didn't falter.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. He gave himself a minute to adjust, and to enjoy. He clenched his muscles tighter around Phil, just to see his reaction. Which was a raised eyebrow and a very deliberate hard squeeze of Clint's cock. Clint took the hint and relaxed, which incidentally allowed another inch of Phil to slide into him.

"You're going to regret it if you make me laugh," Clint said. 

Phil eased his grip. "Don't tease me then."

"Come on, you love it." To prove his point, Clint reached behind himself with a his still-slick hand and gathered up Phil's balls, rolling them in his palm. Phil's face softened and his eyes closed.

"Yeah," Phil moaned and resumed stroking Clint's cock. Between the delicious stretch in his ass, the sight of Phil shivering under him, and the feel of Phil's hand on his cock, Clint's arousal somehow found an even higher gear. He took a long slow breath and on the exhale, slid down the rest of the way onto Phil's cock, drawing another long low moan. 

"Yeah." It was Clint's turn to close his eyes. Phil's thick hard length inside him felt incredible. He shifted his knees to adjust his position, settling some of his weight on Phil's hips. He felt Phil's thighs twitching under him as if they wanted to thrust upwards.

"Is that good?" Clint asked. Even though he could see the answer on Phil's' face, he still wanted to hear it. 

"So good, Clint." Phil opened his eyes and stared into Clint's. "You feel incredible on my cock."

Clint's lust-addled brain couldn't come up with a reply to that, so instead he bunched his thighs and started to move; sliding back up Phil's shaft so that just the head was inside him and then sinking back down with a groan. 

"Yeah," Phil moaned.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, then set a slow steady pace, determined to maintain it for as long as possible, to make Phil feel good. To give him as much as Clint had to give. Within minutes they were both moaning and gasping. Phil's fist had tightened around Clint's cock and was stroking hard in time to Clint's movements. Clint couldn't keep up the slow pace any longer and started to move faster. His thigh muscles were starting to burn, but he barely noticed. He couldn't take as much care as he wanted to with Phil's balls now, so he released them and planted his hands on Phil's shoulders, leaning forward. The new angle was even better as the head of Phil's cock grazed his prostate on every stroke. 

"Not gonna last much longer," Clint panted. "You close?" 

"Yeah, real close." Phil looked up into his eyes and put the hand that wasn't stroking Clint's cock on the back of his neck, urging his head down. Clint figured out what Phil wanted and paused on a down stroke, his ass glued to Phil's groin, Phil's cock throbbing inside him. For a moment they were both motionless, then Clint leaned forward kissing Phil hard, and was met by an equal ferocity. Clint felt like he could almost come just from that, just from being on the receiving end of Phil Coulson's surprisingly intense passion.

It wasn't really all that surprising, though. Clint had known Phil for a long time, and one of the things that made him start to fall for his handler was Phil's passion. His passion for justice, for hard work, for competence and professionalism, and for protecting his team. Phil always went the extra mile for someone he cared about, and never let anyone down. Clint had never met anyone like Phil. And now that passion was focussed on him, Phil's mouth demanding on his, Phil's hands, one now threaded into his hair and the other on his cock, holding it warmly. Phil's eyes, when Clint pulled back from the kiss, staring into his like he was reading all of Clint's secrets in them. Phil could have them. Phil could have everything. 

Clint started to move again, his thigh muscles protesting a little, with slow deliberate strokes. "What else can I do for you? What will push you over the edge?" Clint asked.

"Watching you come on my cock is going to do it for me, Clint," Phil said, his voice low.

The gravel in Phil's tone sent a shiver though Clint. "Okay, then. Just keep doing that," Clint's eyes flicked downwards to where Phil's hand was stroking him firmly. If Phil wanted a bit of a show, Clint was happy to give it to him. Not that he would go overboard with fake moaning or anything, but he decided that he could let his guard down completely, and let Phil see everything he was feeling. So Clint let himself relax. He leaned back and Phil released the hand that had been in his hair, moving it to his ass. Clint smiled at that and then put his hands behind himself, on Phil's legs, letting his thumbs stroke Phil's sensitive inner thighs. 

"Yeah, " Phil said with a breathy moan. "Fuck you're gorgeous." 

Clint sped up his strokes and Phil's hand tightened on his cock.

"Yeah, Phil, yeah. You feel so good. So good inside me." 

"The things I want to do to you," Phil said.

"Yeah." Clint wanted those things. Whatever they were. Wanted more of this with Phil. His balls were hot and tight, his ass was stretched and full and his cock was throbbing in Phil's hand. It was only going to take a little more for him to…

"Come for me, Clint," Phil said, with just the right mixture of pleading and command in his voice. Clint shivered and came, his ass clenching Phil tightly, his own cock exquisitely sensitive. Clint pried his eyes open, wanting to see. See his come streaking Phil's chest, see his cock in Phil's hand, see Phil's face. See Phil come. 

Phil's hand on his ass clenched so tightly Clint was sure he was going to have bruises, and the idea made his spent cock twitch in Phil's hand. He forced his burning thigh muscles to keep his rhythm, thankful that it only took two more strokes before Phil was shaking under him, mouth open, eyes closed, hips bucking up into Clint as Phil came with a sigh.

"Fuck yeah," Phil said after he collapsed back onto the bed.

"Yeah, fuck." Clint agreed. 

"C'mere," Phil urged, releasing Clint's cock and putting a sticky hand on his bicep to urge him forward. Clint leaned in carefully, his thigh muscles protesting. Clint expected Phil to kiss him again, but instead he tipped their foreheads together and stared into Clint's eyes from an inch away.

"Thank you, that was amazing," Phil said.

Clint wasn't sure how to respond. 'You're welcome' sounded too weird in his head, but he knew he needed to say something before Phil got the wrong idea. "It was awesome. You're incredible, Phil." Clint watched as Phil's ears turned pink with either pleasure or embarrassment or probably a mixture of the two. And suddenly Clint really, really needed to kiss Phil, so he did. Tentatively, though, because now that the sex was finished, he wasn't sure where he stood. Or knelt. Or whatever. Phil kissed him back softly and tenderly and sweetly. Like they'd been lovers for years, instead of twenty minutes. Clint never wanted it to stop, but eventually Phil pulled away.

"You're going to want to move before your thighs seize up, trust me," he said.

Clint wasn't sure he wanted to move ever again, but Phil was probably right. Besides, they were both very sticky which was sexy now, but would get gross pretty soon. Clint nodded and drew back, straightening his back and then trying to kneel upright, only to find that his legs would hardly obey him. He bit off an undignified yelp of pain, but not before Phil had grabbed him around the waist and to support some of his weight.

"How bad is it?" Phil asked.

"Just sore. And I think my knees have gone to sleep. It might be better if I just kind of roll off to the side, if that's okay?"

"Whatever you want, Clint."

"Okay, here goes." Clint put his left hand down on the mattress to support himself and used his right to hoist his leg over Phil's body, then collapsed in a heap, trying not to whimper. The sex had been worth it, no doubt about that, but boy, did he ache.

"Roll onto your back if you can, I'll be right back." Clint rolled over, mostly so that he could watch Phil's bare ass as he left the room. Clint heard Phil working the cabin's hand pump, and wished one of them had thought to put a pot of water on the wood stove to heat up. Clint wasn't looking forward to washing up with icy cold water. But Phil was crossing to the stove, and Clint figured he had a plan. Phil usually did. Besides, this way he got to spend another couple of minutes appreciating Phil Coulson's very fine ass. Sure enough, Phil came back with a bowl and a wet bandana. Clint groaned and reached for them, but Phil gently batted his hand away.

"Let me." It wasn't quite a request, but it wasn't quite an order either. Clint shrugged. At least this way he wouldn't have to move. Phil cleaned him up carefully with what turned out to be a lukewarm rag, being very gentle with his ass and slightly less gentle with his cock. Clint hissed as Phil swiped the rough cloth down his sensitive cock. "Sorry," Phil said, and finished up more carefully. He dropped the bandana beside the bed, then climbed back in and drew the covers up over them both. He re-arranged the pillows so that they each had one, and then lay back, next to Clint but not touching him, staring up at the ceiling.

"Is this the talking about it part?" Clint asked.

"I think it should be, don't you?" Phil sounded cautious and subdued.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Let me, ah, put my cards on the table, as it were." Phil said, and then paused.

Clint didn't know if he was stopping to think or waiting for some sort of response, so after a few seconds silence he said, "Yeah, go right ahead."

"I care about you, and I'm attracted to you." Phil paused again. 

Clint waited again. "But?"

"No, no, there's no 'but,' I just… I don't know how you feel about relationships, but I take them pretty seriously. So I," Phil's voice caught and he cleared his throat. "I'd prefer to know right away if this is just a casual thing for you."

Even though he really didn't want to move, Clint rolled up onto his side so that he was facing Phil. After a moment Phil turned his head to look at Clint. 

"Usually I suck at relationships." Clint said with a wry grin. "Uh, partly that's because I cancel on dates too often and can't talk about my work. Which won't be an issue, uh, here," Clint waved his hand in a vague gesture between Phil and himself. "Obviously. But I, uh, also suck at relationships because I never have any clue what I'm supposed to be doing, or what the other person wants from me." Clint paused. He wasn't sure where to go from there.

"I don't want anything from you, Clint. I just want you." Clint opened his mouth to object but Phil cut him off. "No, I really mean that." Phil rolled over so that they were nose-to-nose on the crappy pillow, and the tenderness Clint saw in Phil's eyes made him want to melt into a puddle of goo. 

"I'd hate myself if I hurt you," Clint blurted out without meaning to. "Just… Phil you gotta promise to tell me if I'm screwing up, okay?"

"Only if you promise to do the same. I'm no expert at relationships either. The whole cancelling dates and not talking about work makes them difficult, so I haven't exactly had a lot of practice. But I think we can figure how to make it work."

"We'll we've known each other a long time, that should help, I hope." Clint smiled and Phil smiled back at him, which made the 'melt into goo' feeling come back. "So, uh, if we're gonna be in a relationship," Clint's throat went tight around the word, but he soldiered on. "I have one really important question."

Phil raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

It was Clint's turn to blush as he asked, "How do you feel about snuggling?"

Instead of answering, Phil pulled Clint into his arms and held him tight. Clint tucked his nose into the crook of Phil's neck and sighed. Being a puddle of goo for a while sounded like a great idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Miss Kitty Fantastico for beta reading!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at: [Jo Mathieson](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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